


Rescue

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-07
Updated: 2007-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes on strike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue

It's Tuesday when John goes on strike.

"Colonel, are you listening to me?" Rodney always sounds extra annoyed when the radio's the only form of communication available to him.

"Kinda," John sighs, staring at the ceiling. He's sprawled on what he thinks is an Ancient couch. It's pretty comfortable for something made by a bunch of scientific fuck-up, trippy head-cases.

"Do you see a panel by the door?"

John turns his head. "Yep."

"Pry it open. Inside – "

"Can't."

There's a baffled silence on the other end of the radio connection. "Can't?"

"I wanna be rescued for a change."

"Oh my god, you are – " Rodney makes a series of noises that are completely unintelligible. "Don't be ridiculous!"

John looks back up at the ceiling. "I'm serious."

"So what, you're going to just wait for someone to come and _save_ you from the crazy leaning tower of doom, with its crumbling lower levels and salt-encrusted balconies? Someone who might not _get there in time_ because of variables like weather and Jumper repairs and oh, you know, not having a _clue_ why Atlantis locked you in there?"

"Yeah," John says. "Something like that."

Rodney growls low. "Insufferable, idiotic, clueless . . . "

"I figure I'm due," John says, folding his arms behind his head.

"Due a _kick to the head_ ," Rodney yells.

John can hear the beep-beep-beep of Rodney's tablet. "You're working on it."

"Well of _course_ I am," Rodney snaps. "Just because you're having a psychotic break doesn't mean – "

"I'm not psychotic."

"No, you're _sulking_."

"Am not."

"Are too."

John pouts. "Am _not_."

"Look, I can go sixteen rounds of 'not/too' with you, or I can save your ass. Which would you prefer?"

John thinks about it. "Save my ass." He can hear the metallic thump of someone climbing the stairs. "And bring me a sandwich."

"Sandwich. Well, life is full of disappointments," Rodney mutters. He's sounding a little out of breath by now. "I can't believe you won't even pry open a wall panel to _assist_ in this general debacle of a rescue effort."

"It's clean on the other side of the room, Rodney. I'd have to get up."

There's a pause. "Get up?"

"Got a couch. Nice view. If I had a sandwich it'd be pretty perfect up here."

There's a long, mutinous silence from Rodney, then – "Do you mean to tell me you're _napping_?"

"No," John says. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"But you're lying down?"

"Yep."

"Taking a rest?"

"Yep."

"Prone?"

"Yep."

"While _I_ , on the other hand, climb seventeen flights of stairs lugging four kinds of 'get the idiot out of jail free' tool kits and a tablet."

John nods thoughtfully. "Yep."

"You are a jerk." Something clangs right outside the door to John's room. "You are a jerk and an asshole and a prick. Because it's _so_ much fun to be the scientist who _always_ ends up saving _everyone's_ asses, when – "

"Hey, I've saved you a bunch."

"Yes, yes, and by my tally, you now owe me three rescues, because we are _so_ not even anymore."

John considers this. "I have to save other people, too."

"Poor baby." The door clangs, and John's fairly sure Rodney just kicked it.

"Ronon and Teyla and Parrish that one time with the – " John gestures helplessly, at a loss to describe the particular plant he had to send to its maker with seven rounds from his P-90. "Lorne, Simpson, Zelenka, the whole city a coupla times . . . "

"Wah, wah, wah." The door slides open an inch and John can hear Rodney in real time now, not just over the radio.

"Saved some Athosians . . ."

The door slides open the whole way and Rodney steps inside, red-faced and pissed-off. "Are you done now, princess, or should I have someone bring in another fainting couch so that you can really work up to your full drama queen potential?"

John sighs. "I just wanted to be rescued."

And Rodney huffs, stomps across the room and sits down beside John's hip. "Someday soon you will be the end of me," he gripes, but then leans in and kisses John, wet and dirty, and John wriggles happily, indulging in a little 'I was rescued' glow.


End file.
